Neighborly Love
by ProtegoMaximaMyHeart
Summary: Sherlock, John, Irene, Amy, Rory, and Melody are all neighbors. As they grow up, they learn more about each other and themselves. Johnlock, Amy/Rory, and Melody/Irene in later chapters. Rating and genre will change later on.
1. A Typical Play Date

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Doctor Who. Both are the property of BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss.

**A/N: So this is my next Wholock, except they're all kids. Melody will always be Melody; never River. I thought it would be funny if I brought everyone together.**

A group of parents all sat in the sitting room one June afternoon, discussing the end of their week while their children were playing nicely in the living room. As nicely as they could manage, anyhow.

"SHERLOCK! GIVE IT BACK!" A young girl's voice reverberated throughout the Holmes household.

"Why would I do tha—GET OFF ME!"

"Sherlock! Don't be mean to Irene! Give her back her doll! MELODY! Don't hit Sherlock again!" John's voice was sharp. "Rory! Help me out here!"

There was a sharp grunt, followed by a yelp. "I'm trying! Mels, you are way too strong for an 8-year-old."

"John, why are you siding with her? I thought you were my friend!" Sherlock whined.

"I am, Sherlock. However, you're being mean to Irene," John replied.

"Melody, what have I told you about hitting people?" Amy groaned.

"That it's not good?" Her voice squeaked.

8-year-old Irene was currently waving her arms to desperately reclaim her doll back that 10-year-old Sherlock was holding high above his head. Melody, the same age as Irene, had a vice grip around Sherlock's middle, as if she was trying to squeeze the life out of him. John was the same age as Sherlock, but he was quite mature for his age; he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and did his best to negotiate. His little sister Harriet, who was Irene's age, was a handful. It was bad enough that his two best friends squabbled like they were siblings. Rory and Amy were the same age as John and Sherlock.

They all lived next door to each other: John was in the middle house with Sherlock and Irene on either side. Their parents all met when they moved in and decided to get together every weekend for tea. Once their kids were older, they brought them together for play dates. Sherlock and John bonded immediately, while Irene was desperate to be one of the boys. John was nicer to her because he liked being with her more than with his own sister, as sad as that sounded. Sherlock was mean to Irene mostly out of spite because he was always picked on by his brother Mycroft, who was 7 years older than him. Sometimes, John really felt like he was caught in the middle with these two, but he did his best to make them both happy.

Amy, Rory, and Melody joined their group when their parents moved into the neighborhood when the kids entered primary school. Seeing as how there were kids around their own age, their parents introduced themselves to the other adults. Melody and Irene became inseparable from the first moment they met. If Sherlock was John's best friend, then Rory was like the cool brother that John never had. Amy was John's sort of tag-team partner when it came to breaking up the fights.

"Sherlock, give Irene back her doll," John repeated sternly.

He pouted and shook his head, his shaggy black hair flying everywhere. His arms were crossed, Irene's doll tightly clutched between them. He was normally much more mature for his age, given that Mycroft was around more than their parents. However, whenever he acted like this, there was a definite reason behind it.

"Sherlock," his voice took on the even tone that he picked up from his mum.

It felt like forever, but Sherlock eventually shoved the doll into Irene's hands. She giggled and held it close.

"Thank you John!" She hugged him. He chuckled and patted her on the back.

"Now, Sherlock? How come you took her doll?"

He turned a bright red, but kept his head down. A string of mumbles came out, and Irene snickered. Amy gave her an admonishing look, and she silenced quickly.

"Sorry, you're going to have to speak up, Sherlock," John said gently.

"She made fun of me because I don't know the solar system!" Sherlock cried out.

"It's the solar system!"

"Why is it so important to know why balls of rock and gas revolve around the sun?" He sniffed.

"It just is!"

"It doesn't make any sense!"

"ENOUGH!" Amy shouted. Everyone turned to her, mouths open. She normally didn't raise her voice until she really got pushed over the edge.

"Both of you need to apologize to each other. No questions. You are both at fault, but this can be easily fixed. Say it like you mean it," she added.

Sherlock and Irene faced each other, both with wrinkled noses. He rolled his eyes and said, "I'm sorry," with a drawl.

She pouted, but said, "I'm sorry," as well.

Amy had a satisfied smile on her face. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The looks on their faces said otherwise.


	2. Rainy Days

Since everyone's parents were very tightknit, it was common for the older kids to watch Irene and Melody since they instilled so much trust in them.

However, Melody and Irene were only so fond of the boys, mostly because Sherlock was a prat. John and Rory were nice and everything, but it wasn't the same compared to when Amy was with them.

It was a Friday morning with the rain battering against Irene's window, but it was tranquil background music for them.

The Raggedy Doctor was poking out of his little blue box, beckoning for an adventure with his companion, Martin the Hedgehog. They went off to the edges of the universe, saving one galaxy at a time. They were joined later by Benedict the Otter and they traveled to Neptune to save his otter friends from the river controlled by evil river spirits.

Mels and Irene weren't terribly into Barbie dolls or other toys of that sort, mostly because they were more interested in having adventures than worrying about trivial girlie things. Instead, they preferred their stuffed animals who could have fun on their own.

Amy was fascinated by Greek mythology, hence the current adventure their companions were having today. She was a little older than Irene and Melody, but she still confided in them about her Doctor. They knew all about how he promised her that he would be back in five minutes, but he didn't show up at all.

"That wasn't very nice of him. He promised you he would come back," Melody said with a frown, poking Martin's nose.

Amy sighed. "I know. It's silly, me waiting around for him. But, I'm not going to give up on him."

"You can't. A promise is a promise," Irene added, stroking Benedict's fur.

"Is he cute?" Melody asked.

Amy blushed, but she smiled. "Yes, he is very cute, but he likes really weird food, likes fish fingers and custard. You would both like him. I wasn't with him for very long, but I remember that he was very kind and protective."

"Fish fingers and custard?" Both girls wrinkled their noses.

"I couldn't believe it at first either. I tried making him the normal foods, like bread and butter, or scrambled eggs. He thought that it was really gross. But when he tried the fish fingers and custard, he thought it was the greatest thing in the world!"

"Ewwwwwww."

"I know!"

They laughed and resumed playing with their toys, letting their imaginations run wild. It didn't feel like enough time passed for them to play together until Irene's parents came home.

Sure, Amy had other friends at school, like Molly, Mary, Sarah, and sometimes Sally, but they didn't understand her like these two wonderful girls did.


	3. Study Parties

**A/N: Big thanks to IBelieveinSherlockH for editing! You're awesome :)**

John and Rory were sitting at Rory's kitchen table after school one day. It looked like their backpacks had exploded all over the table with how many textbooks and notes were spread around. They somehow managed to sneak a bowl in the middle of the table filled to the brim with crisps, being careful not to spill too many crumbs over their notes. They were both 16 and in Year 11, and were starting to feel the pressure from their parents.

Their parents had been pushing them to study especially hard for their GCSE exams to get into sixth form or college.

It was routine for everyone to study together for anything really, save for Mels and Irene. Currently, Amy was finishing up her shift at the local café and was en route to his house. Sherlock should have been joining them, but he had too much pride, plus a mind capacity that could fill a palace. Still, his parents had pestered him enough to study with his friends, so he was also on his way over. John imagined he was stomping every step of the way, believing that his time could have been spent more usefully somewhere else.

They were focusing on the major subjects: Math, science, English, history, and biology. There were a lot more subjects that they could have taken for GCSE classes, but they insisted to their parents that the classes that they were taking were enough work as it was.

Time felt like a paradox to them; excruciatingly slow for all the material they had to cover, but at the same time speeding by for the same reasons. They had spent what felt like forever particularly on math, mostly because science came naturally to them. Even at their age, they already had an inkling that they wanted to do something in the medical field when they got into Uni. English and history weren't as much of a problem since they enjoyed reading and writing for pleasure and for school.

Rory vaguely heard the door open and heard someone call out, "Hey moron!" He smiled and felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. Because they had all grown up together, he had developed feelings for Amy, but he was terrified of making them known. They had all grown to view each other as not only best mates, but also as siblings. Their relationships ran so deep; any attempt to cross that line would prove to be disastrous.

Amy dropped her bag on the kitchen floor with a thump and frowned. "How are we all supposed to study for our GCSEs when your stuff is all over the place?"

John rolled his eyes, but he gathered his share of the papers and made a messy pile, placing them on the empty chair next to him. "It's not like it was going to be this mess the entire time. We just think better when we can see all of our material in front of us."

She grunted, then ungracefully slumped into the chair next to Rory and rubbed her temples, her face weary. Her hair was somewhat of an indicator of how work went: Normally, it was in a neat bun on the top of her head at the beginning of her shift. If it remained in the same place by the end of the day, things went well. However, if it slumped down towards her ear or even to the nape of her neck, there was definitely something off. Today, it looked like a bird's nest had lodged itself by her ear.

Rory gave her a worried look. "Bad day?"

Without even saying anything, she got up from her chair and raided his fridge. By the time they were 13, their kitchens were all free game. Once she sat back down with what looked like a leftover sandwich, she peeled off the bread, piled on some crisps, slapped the slice back on, and tucked in. Rory was patient with her because sometimes it took her a while to really articulate what she wanted to say. At this point, John was curious too because he knew how hard she worked. Sometimes, he studied at the café she worked at after school for a more relaxed study environment than at home. Every time he looked over, she was preparing drink after drink and barely getting any break.

"Just the usual gits being their stupid selves," she growled at the wall.

"I hope you didn't mess up their orders on purpose," John replied. Rory thought it was funny, but John thought otherwise.

She looked at the boys, her green eyes slightly duller than usual. One glance at Rory's probing and she started cracking up. John immediately knew the answer and was about to object, but he lost it too and laughed until his abs hurt. Rory was practically leaning on Amy to stay upright; she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh God, you two should have been there! There was this woman who was watching me make her 'grande nonfat skim vanilla soy latte'. She was just being really rude to everyone, making it so well-known how important she was by talking obnoxiously loud on her mobile. What really pissed me off was how she was blatantly bashing all of the workers, claiming that just because we make coffee, we **must** have a lower mental capacity. Plus, she kept asking me if I was doing it right. So, you know what I did?"

"Yeah?" The guys were excited at this point.

Her eyes regained that sparkle that had an evil glint added. "She got regular dairy milk, less vanilla and decaf espresso. Rule of thumb: never piss off your baristas. We're the ones that make your drinks."

"Noted. What do you want to start with?" John asked with a handful of crisps in his mouth.

"Ugh…I might as well start with math. I've always hated it," Amy groaned. Rory gave her a sympathetic pat on her shoulder, which she leaned into, if only for a moment.

After a couple of hours, there was a loud thump at the door. The trio looked up at each other and smiled. Sherlock always loved to be dramatic. He came in with a scowl on his face; his hair was even more unruly than usual, evidence of his exasperation with the general population.

"I cannot wait to get out of secondary school and be around more colleagues whose intelligence can rival mine, not that that is likely either," he growled.

John didn't even bother hiding his eye roll and sighed. "What happened?"

Sherlock moved John's papers from the chair and placed them on his backpack and sat down. He propped his ridiculously long legs up on the table, shoving more papers out of the way with his heels. Taking an apple out of his backpack, he munched on it.

"Anderson was getting on my nerves again. We got into this stupid argument during biology. Our teacher asked our class about how carbon dioxide is carried on the red blood cell. I said that it's carried on the hemoglobin and then broken down by carbonic anhydrase. He said that that was impossible since hemoglobin only carries oxygen. I retaliated by stating that when CO2 binds to hemoglobin, it becomes carbaminohemoglobin. Naturally, the teacher sided with me. Anderson was just being a prat."

Amy frowned. "Please don't tell me you yelled at him and then analyzed his whole appearance to indicate his lack in social graces in front of the whole class. Again."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Sherlock," John groaned, "you can't keep doing that to people. It's not exactly nice."

He took out a large chunk of his apple, but shrugged.

Rory slapped his hands on the table. "OKAY! History anyone?"


	4. Volleyball

Melody and Irene were enrolled in an outdoor summer youth volleyball league, much to their delight. They loved being outdoors because they played constantly, so their parents thought it was a perfect fit. Although they formally met with their teammates twice a week, once for practice and another time for game day, but they practiced all the time in the park where they met anyway.

They were 10 years old, but they had already showed promise with their fast grasping of the volleyball skills, such as overhand serving. The girls also had a way of making fast friends, which made up for being the odd ones out in their little circle of friends. It was their parents who encouraged them to break out of their shell. Most of the time they wanted to be partners in warming up and in partner drills, but they willed themselves to befriend their teammates. At first, they had a hard time remembering everyone's name, but they eventually became really good friends.

The second day of practice, the clinician asked them what their team name was. They decided to go with the Badgers because they thought it was a cool animal. The youngest team, who seemed like endless balls of energy, went with the Hummingbirds. The oldest team, who were all around 13, didn't really care about their names. The clinician kept pestering them for it, but they eventually came up with a cheeky team name: Kiss My Ace.

Their clinician, Christine or Chris for short, was probably a little older than Mycroft. She was really nice and relaxed. Apparently she played for about 5 years, so she had the experience to teach them the basics. The parents really seemed to like her since she was already in Uni, so she seemed to be responsible, but able to have fun with the kids. She treated the kids like they were all adults, which they thought was cool. Every day, once she demonstrated the drills that they would be doing for their time together, she left them to their own devices.

A lot of the player's parents were coaches, offering words of encouragement when it felt like they weren't making any progress. It got frustrating for them and they felt like giving up, but their coaches refused to let them. Instead, they would ask them to try again.

Chris flitted around, checking in with everyone. Melody got a little nervous when she was off to the side, watching with careful eyes. When she messed up returning the ball, her cheeks turned a bright pink and she started to walk towards the back of the line.

"Hey, come here," Chris offered with a smile.

Melody stood next to her. "Now, the key to returning the ball is stay low and on the balls of your feet. You'll be a lot quicker that way. Also, remember to keep your hands apart until right before you bump the ball. Otherwise you'll look like an awkward elephant." Chris did just that and Melody copied her. "Good. Now, try again."

Irene's mum tossed the ball off to the side and Melody returned it, surprised at how it actually worked. She high-fived Chris and skipped to the back of line. Irene grinned at her and walked into the court, ready to have her turn.

This continued for about 20 minutes until Chris' whistle pierced through the air. She yelled, "WATER BREAK FOR 10 MINUTES!" and walked off to make a phone call. Probably to her boyfriend, they thought.

Meanwhile, Melody and Irene practice bumping back and forth after drinking some water.

"Do you think we'll be able to play the older kids?" Irene asked.

Melody wrinkled her nose. "I hope not. I hate losing."

Irene snickered. "I saw Chris going over there a lot to help them. Some of them still have problems serving and bumping."

"Really?"

"They may be older, but I think they we could kick their butts."

"We're pretty good."

Chris' whistle marked the end of their water break and they returned to the middle court to learn about the next part of their day.

She had a big smile on her face. "So, I talked to the coaches. How would you all feel about a big scrimmage?"

Everyone started shouting at once, but the general consensus was that they really wanted to do it.

"Alright, alright," she laughed, "now it seems like there's an uneven amount of players to divide up the games evenly, so..." she paused for a dramatic effect, "how about the Badgers and the Hummingbirds combine to play against Kiss My Ace?"

The shouting intensified tenfold. Chris had to blow the whistle hard to get everyone to quiet down. "Alright, get onto your sides of the court!"

They scrambled to their sides and chatted excitedly to their coaches. Melody and Irene's team got on well immediately. The coaches encouraged them to call "Mine" all the time and to be on their toes. If there was one thing that they learned, it was that they didn't like it when the ball dropped. Glancing over at the other side of the net, the older team looked a little too confident for their own good.

The game started and it was clear from the beginning that the younger side had the edge. They were a lot quicker on their feet and were a lot more eager to get the ball than Kiss My Ace. This wasn't to say that they were totally incompetent at volleyball. They were good at serving, but being able to do a simple bump-set-spike wasn't their forte. Granted, they had the attitude that the ball would come to them with little effort on their part, which led to their downfall.

They had lost.

Badly.

As in the Hummingbirds/Badgers won two sets out of three.

The only reason that Kiss My Ace won the last set was because they had enough sense in them to pull it together and play a pretty good game.

Chris blew the whistle to signal the end of the game. Both teams lined up on the back line and then they high-fived each other.

"Great practice everyone! I'll see you next week," Chris shouted cheerfully.

Summer for the most part was kind of dull, but those days in the park were some of the best days for Melody and Irene.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So I may have inserted myself into this story *facepalm***


	5. Coffee and Courage

There were some days that Rory preferred to study at the coffee shop over the library at school.

One, he was able to talk to his mates without having to worry about being shushed.

Two, there was easy access to coffee and other pastries.

And three, and most importantly, he had an excuse to be around Amy longer.

This was the day. He could feel it in his bones.

* * *

><p>It was hard to say the exact moment when he realized he had those feelings. Given that they've grown up together, he concluded that he had always loved her, even if it was puppy love to begin with. He felt like she might reciprocate, but he never trusted his gut when it came to matters like this.<p>

Rory always took the table by the window across from the counter so that he could make easy chat with her while she was working. Her boss knew him pretty well, so he gave her slack when she was talking to him on the job.

Rory and two of his friends were studying for their upcoming biology exam, their books spread out over two tables. Rory felt like he excelled in the particular subject the exam focused on: anatomy and physiology. In particular, the focus was on the cardiovascular system. His friends shared in his enthusiasm, making studying more enjoyable for all of them. He would like to think that they were a wolf pack of sorts, given that they were always together, inside and outside the classroom.

"Ughhh, can we please take a break? My head is throbbing from all this studying. We've been here for five bloody hours. I think we'll be fine," his friend Alex mumbled. He was the more anal one of the trio, so it was a surprise to see him give in so easily after a marathon of studying.

"Fine. We'll take an hour long break. Is that alright?" Rory grunted, looking behind him before stretching as far as he could possibly go. He would have hated to bump into anyone.

"God yes. I need to pop out and make a phone call," Sean replied. He drained the last of his coffee and went outside.

Rory cracked his neck and groaned at the satisfying pop. "Alex, do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good." His face was planted against the table.

Rory chuckled and went to stand in line. It didn't take long for him to decide what he wanted. After studying for so long, all his brain could register was that it wanted something, **anything,** to eat. Amy was giving the customer in front of him a courtesy smile, but gave him a real genuine smile. It made his stomach flutter and all he could do was stupidly smile back. _This was it Williams. This was your moment._

"This is the third time you've been up here! Haven't you lot finished studying yet?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. Alex still wants to go over everything. AGAIN."

She offered a small sad smile. "Ah, well. You three are going to do fine."

"I know that. But try telling him that. It's like nothing stops him from doubting himself. He's probably the smartest out of the three of us, but I guess it's a good thing that he wants to be 100 percent sure on all the material," he sighed.

"Better safe than sorry. Anyway, what're you having?"

"Eh just tea for me. I don't think my brain can handle any more caffeine," Rory laughed.

She smirked but handed him a cup. "You sure you don't want anything else? I know how you magically lose your appetite when studying and then decide you're a dinosaur later on."

Rory rolled his eyes. She knew him too well. "Now that you mention it, I'll have that ham and cheese croissant."

Amy plucked it from the case, dropped it into a brown paper bag, set it on the counter, and rung up his order. She was oblivious to the nervous look on his face, even when she looked up to tell him the total.

"That'll be 5 quid," she said.

He fumbled, **he NEVER fumbled_,_** with his money and plopped it in her hand.

_Do it. Do It. DO IT. _He looked behind him to see if there was anyone waiting to order. Nope.

"Hey Amy?" He winced at how his voice jumped up an octave.

"What's up?"

"I-I was wondering," he stammered, but he sucked a deep breath and pushed forward, "would you l—" A sharp jab to his ribs interrupted his speech.

"Williams! Why don't you leave talking to the little madam to the big boys, eh?" It was Jake from the rugby team who cut him in line. Damn him and his bad timing. Why couldn't it have been someone he **liked** from the team? He knew the friendly ones since John was on the team, but he had hoped never to cross paths with the players of the dim sort.

"Oi, the little madam is standing right here and refuses to be addressed in such a matter!" Amy snapped.

"Come on, babe. Why don't you stop hanging out with this prat and come have some fun with a real man?" Jake waggled his eyebrows and had a wolfish grin on.

"Um, let me think about that…no!" She was getting really irritated at this point.

"Why not? I'm fit, I'm devilishly handsome, and you know you and I would have a really good time," he purred.

"For one thing, you're a right idiot if you think we're going to go out when you obviously show no respect for anyone other than yourself and your Neanderthal pack of friends! Another thing, I've met wallpaper smarter than you. Finally, you better not insult my best friend again or there will be hell to pay." Her Scottish accent became even more pronounced as her voice dropped to a deadly whisper while her hazel eyes flashed fire.

Seeing Amy really angry was a rare thing and for good reason. It was probably one of the more frightening things to witness. If looks could kill, Jake would have been dead on the floor by now. It seems like it worked as Jake's eyes widened and he slowly backed away from the counter. He turned around and slumped away while Rory threw in a rude gesture for good measure.

She gave him a satisfied smile. "Now, what did you want to ask me?" She had a gut instinct of what he was going to ask her, which made her heart pick up a little. It was flattering in a way.

"I-I, uh, I was hoping, that maybe, some time, y-you and I, er, could, um…" Amy thought it was cute he stumbled over his words. "...gooutonadatesometime." He rushed the last part out so quickly, she only blinked. She thinks that she caught the gist of it though.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that," she snickered.

"I…was wondering…if you wanted to go out with me some time," he finally managed to say.

"I would love to," she replied.

Rory's face lit up like it was Christmas. "Great! Erm, well, we can talk out the details later on. I better get back to studying. Big exam, y'know."

"I know." Amy's heart felt lighter. "I'll see you laters, yeah?"

"Laters."

Rory was much more animated when they regrouped to study. When he told them, they all offered him claps on the back and high fived. It took forever, but they managed to cover all of the material thoroughly. They quizzed each other, talked out concepts, and got a few laughs in. Rory kept sneaking glances at Amy, who winked back at him. He blushed and stared down at his paper, doodling senselessly, but he confidently smiled back later on. The trio left the coffee shop as the sun went down.

Naturally, the three of them got the top mark on their exams.


	6. Snowballs

**A/N: Year Nine puts them around 13 years old in case you were wondering. Yes, he deleted the Solar System at some point, but who doesn't love learning about space in general? I've seen different headcanons on Tumblr for who Mummy Holmes would be, and I like Helen Mirren the best as Mummy, so I'm sticking with her.**

Sherlock was in his room one Wednesday morning during his winter holiday. He was in the middle of his ninth year, and he was already bored with everything that he was learning. Not that he wasn't fascinated by it. On the contrary, he had an insatiable curiosity, temporary satisfied with school. It wasn't enough for his restless mind however. To help remedy this scenario, he went to the local library and set himself up with a card. The end result was that his room was filled with stacks of books, ranging in subjects from the epics of Homer to astrophysics.

He was in the middle of reading up on black holes when he heard a splat against his window. Sure enough, there was a big white ball attached to it. He walked over to it and glanced down to see who threw it. It looked like John, but it was hard to be sure because the figure was all bundled up. Sherlock opened his window and winced at how brightly the sun bounced off the fresh snow on the ground. He focused his eyes on the person and knew immediately from the bright eyes smiling up at him.

John had to remove the scarf from over his mouth in order to talk. "Morning! Want to come down and play?"

He shivered at the cold wind that swept into his warm bedroom and frowned. "Play what, exactly? I'm perfectly fine in here reading."

"It seems like that's all you've been doing. You need some fresh air!" John felt like less like his best friend and more like his doctor/ mum at times.

"What's wrong with the air inside?" Sherlock retorted.

"Nothing! But there's nothing like the fresh London air after a snow fall."

"That's rubbish if I ever heard it."

"Come on! It'll be fun! If we're lucky," John prevented smiling too broadly, "we can attack Mycroft when he gets back from the office!"

Sherlock grinned; John had some of the best ideas sometimes. "Hold on. I'll meet you down there."

He went downstairs and threw open the coat closet. He put on the parka that Mummy insisted on getting for him, along with a knit hat, thick gloves, and his snow boots.

"Mum, I'm going outside to play with John!"

"Have fun dear! Be sure to stay bundled up," she reminded from the family room.

Once he was outside, he realized that there was an odd satisfaction he found in the crunch of the snow under his feet. He met John in the middle of the road. Because there was so much snow, the city had practically shut down, turning every road into a playground. The giggles and shouts of the other kids floated through the air only made this more evident.

"Well, you got me outside. Now what?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose as a few snowflakes landed on it.

"We're going to make a snowman!" John was too gleeful for this time of the morning. Sometimes Sherlock resented his chipper demeanor, but he had to admit it was infectious.

A couple of hours later, they had a decent looking snowman. It was a little shorter than John, who was the shorter of the pair of them, but they were satisfied. John had stabbed a carrot in the middle of its face for a nose, while Sherlock found some spare buttons in Mummy's sewing drawer. He pressed them firmly into its face for the eyes and a lopsided smile.

"What should we name him?" John stood back and crossed his arms proudly.

"Anderson?" Sherlock saw the person in question walk by arm-in-arm with Sally.

"That's just mean."

"Not good?"

John paused and really looked at the snowman. "Come to think of it, Anderson does kind of have that kind of smile on his face. But still, it's not good that we're comparing a classmate to a big chunk of snow."

"See what I mean? You know that I'm right."

"..."

"Admit it."

"Sherlock..."

"John."

"Fine. We'll call him Anderson, but don't let him find out about that," John hid a smile and threw on an old scarf around Anderson's neck.

Sherlock snorted and started packing more snow to make a smaller snowman to put on Mycroft's car. Even as the city stopped, it still found ways to carry on. Mycroft had taken the Tube to work earlier in the morning and normally stayed there until late in the evening. His position was a dull one: he was just the coffee boy in the office of the British government for now, but he was working hard to climb up the ladder to at least occupy a minor position.

"Sherlock! John! Come in and have some hot chocolate!" Mummy's voice rang out from the doorway.

The boys went inside, shed their coats, shook off the excess snow, and hung it on the coat rack. The smell of gingerbread cookies wafted through the air and infiltrated their nostrils, warming them up already. They walked down the hall and plopped down onto the chairs in the kitchen.

"Hello Mrs. Holmes. How come you're not at work? I thought the hospital had you working there rain, snow, sleet, or hail," John asked politely.

"John, you know that you can call me Helen. But no, the hospital called me and said that the lab wasn't really in use today, plus there weren't any surgeries scheduled for today." Helen was a brilliant neurosurgeon at St. Barts, but she also did research for biomedical engineering. More specifically, her focus was neural engineering, so she worked long hours to constantly learn more about neural tissue and the latest ways to repair damaged nerves.

"At least you're able to stay nice and warm, yeah?"

"It's nice being able to relax. I've been so busy with surgeries, I forgot the last time I had a day off!" She laughed and sat down across from them, plunking down two steaming mugs in front of them. No one would have guessed that she was the mother of the Holmes boys with her pale blonde hair and warm smile that seemed absent most of the time on their faces. However, both of the brothers inherited her blue eyes, but each had a different quality to them. Sherlock's never stayed one color, while Mycroft's were a mixture of grey/blue.

"Sherlock, did you finish the reading assignment your teacher gave you? I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall behind." She peered over her mug.

"Yes, mum. I finished it last week," he stated proudly before downing a good portion of his drink. He set his mug down and licked off his whipped cream moustache.

"That's my boy. John, what are you and your family doing for the holidays?"

He finished swallowing his drink before speaking. "We're going to Hampshire to visit granddad and grandmum. They would be coming down to our house for Christmas, but granddad has been getting weaker, so we thought it would be best for his health that we visit him at his house."

"I hope that he has a very Happy Christmas. Oh," she got up suddenly and disappeared. She returned moments later with a card and envelope in her hand. "I know it's not much, but could you give this to your grandparents from our family?" She sat down, wrote a short message in it, and sealed it up. She simply signed the front in her delicate script, "To the Watson family". She slid it across the table to him.

John tucked it in his pocket. "They'll appreciate it a lot. Thank you, Helen."

"You're welcome," she replied.

The egg timer dinged. Helen went to the open and opened the door. Immediately, the smell of the gingerbread intensified, making their mouths water. She put on her oven mitts and took them out. After a few seconds, she transferred them to the cooling rack that was sitting on the counter. The boys immediately appeared at her side, eager to take a bite. She smacked their hands with the spatula when they both tried to grab one of them, earning a yelp.

All three of them spent the next hour decorating their gingerbread men. Helen and John took a more whimsical approach to theirs, while Sherlock made his look like a skeleton. They relaxed and chatted for a little while before the boys decided to head back outside to make more snowmen.

They were delighted to see that more fresh snow blanketed the ground. What started out as making mini snowmen turned into making anything from animals to small buildings. It wasn't before long that they had a small city on top of Mycroft's car. Sherlock made an impressive monster and had it destroy everything in its path. John provided the monster's voice, making it growl and speak in monosyllabic sentences. In the midst of their hysterical breakdown of laughing, they heard another set of laughter. They looked around the car to see Mycroft and Greg huddled together under an umbrella walking down the sidewalk, seemingly having an intimate conversation.

"I thought your brother and Greg were friends...?" John muttered.

Sherlock's eyes did a quick scan. _Mirrored body language. Leaning together. Less than .45m between them. Within intimate space. Constant eye contact. Conclusion: Feelings more than platonic._

"If they are, they're not doing a very good job of showing it," he remarked. "How about we show them a good time?"

"How-oh no. Sherlock!" John hissed. Sherlock was midway through forming a snowball. "That's a bad idea! Your brother is scary when he's mad!"

"You wanted to attack him in the first place," he reminded John with a smirk on his face.

"I didn't think that he'd be walking with Greg!"

"What difference does it make?"

"Just look at them. If we interrupted whatever was going on, they'd both be really cross," John pointed out.

Sherlock scowled and set it down. "Fine. Can we at least throw one each and then run away? Mycroft's been having trouble with his diet, so I think that we'll be fine.

"Yeah, if Greg wasn't on the football team. There's no way we could outrun him!"

"I know every street in London. Relax," he reassured him with a slap on the shoulder.

"...Alright. Let's do this," John said while making his snowball.

"Okay, wait for my signal." Sherlock held his snowball in his hand.

"Got it." John had his arm back, ready to throw it and run like hell.

"1," the two of them were slowing down on the sidewalk.

"2," Greg looked like he was gesturing with his head that he had to go off in the opposite direction. Mycroft looked mildly disappointed but stepped forward to offer a hug.

"3!"

**SPLAT. **Sherlock and John hit them right on their heads and high-fived afterwards.

"OI!" Both of them looked pissed and immediately charged after them.

"RUN JOHN!"

All four of them took off into the streets, half of them laughing and the other half shouting.

"Take my hand!" Sherlock shouted, holding it out.

John grabbed it and felt like his arm was about to pop out of its socket as Sherlock made them dart around random corners, across rooftops, and down narrow alleyways. He slowed them down after the shouts died down. They ended up seated on a rooftop in a random part of the city, the silence all around them.

"Well, now what?" John panted. He felt his cheeks burning from running and stinging against the cold.

Sherlock wandered around on the roof, his hair ruffling from beneath his hat. "Well, I think that Mycroft and Greg gave up a while back and went off somewhere else in the hopes of not getting pelted with snowballs again."

"Or, y'know, they could be waiting back by your house ready to pummel us," John added.

"That's not a bad idea either."

They sat there for a few minutes, letting their heart rates slow back down.

"Got your breath back?"

"Ready when you are." 


End file.
